"A cat may look as long and as often as it likes," said Axel, "but it must not get in the king's way. I am sure you can guess why."
"I have not come here to guess why about anything."
"Oh, it is not very abstruse—the cat would be kicked by somebody, of course."
"Oh, ho! Not if it could bite, and had what I have in its pocket."
"Cats do not have pockets, my dear Herr Klutz. You must have noticed that yourself. Pray, what is it that you have in yours?"
"A little poem she sent me in answer to one of mine. A little, sweet poem. I thought you might like to see how your future wife writes to another man."
"Ah—that is why you have called so kindly on me? Out of pure thoughtfulness. My future wife, then, is Miss Estcourt?"
"It is an open secret."
"It is, most unfortunately, not true."
"Ach—I knew you would deny it," cried Klutz, slapping his leg and grinning horribly. "I knew you would deny it when you heard she had been behaving badly. But denials do not alter anything—no one will believe them——"